


A Hole In The Earth

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A Sort of Fix-It, Confusion, M/M, Mating, More drabble than anything else, Pining, Post 2x09, So Most Likely Spoilers, Werewolf!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 18:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about werewolves was this: when in a certain proximity, and with no other stimuli to distract them, the only thing they tended to focus on was the bond with their mate.</p><p> </p><p>    Up until Peter’s second rising and the punishment his uncle had dealt him, Derek hadn’t been aware that even had a mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hole In The Earth

The thing about werewolves was this: when in a certain proximity, and with no other stimuli to distract them, the only thing they tended to focus on was the bond with their mate. 

Up until Peter’s second rising and the punishment his uncle had dealt him, Derek hadn’t been aware that even had a mate. It wasn’t unusual—not all werewolves had predestined mates, though it was three times more likely in bred werewolves. 

So buried under the burnt out wreckage of his old family home, exit laced with healthy and thriving wolfsbane, Derek could only tell what was going on above through one of two things. The rapidly-expanding pack bond as Peter turned new members or they were killed off, and his mate’s every emotion. 

His mate had to be the most hyperactive teenage girl in all of Beacon Hills. Or it’s surrounding towns—he wasn’t sure exactly how wide his range went with nothing but earthworms and a fluctuating pack bond to distract him. Scared – sad – angry – terrified – exhausted – sad – scared – angry – hungry – desperate – worried – sick – scared – terrified – relieved – scared. All in a constant loop that wore him out from the second hand. 

She flitted through emotions quicker than even... Quicker than anyone he’d ever met. At least until a week ago, when the distracting presence of a wolf had tamed the frantic torrent of emotions. The floodgate of emotions had closed the moment his mate had recognised her end of the mate bond. Now there was only pining—a painful echo of his own constant emotional state. The feedback loop was almost torturous. 

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the sudden sharp stab of pain that drove through the bond. 

He’d never wanted a predestined mate. He had to fight off memories of honey-brown eyes (almost gold though they belonged to someone far too human) as he remembered how much he’d wanted the choice of his mate to belong to him alone. 

Things just hadn’t gone his way since Kate, but he wasn’t conceited enough to think that it was anyone’s fault but his own. He hadn’t wanted to lose nearly his entire pack and family in one disastrous afternoon, nor his sister and uncle just when the burning guilt had began to fade. 

He had not been born to be an alpha. He was reminded keenly every moment of his disastrous attempt at controlling his new reckless pack. That and the fact even at the end of his control, he still could not achieve the full alpha form that his mother and Laura and Peter had managed. 

Between the kanima and Gerard Argent and managing three newborn wolves there’d been no time to worry about it. No time to realise that despite his growing feelings for S... Despite his desperation for choice, he’d actually had a predestined mate this entire time. 

The universe clearly got her kicks laughing at him and cackling as she decided what else she could throw at him next. 

His hands scrabbled at the dry, compacted dirt as tension began to drum up on the other side of the mate bond. Something was happening. His mate was in danger and he couldn’t get out to... 

He cried out as his hands brushed the purple petals of the hated flower. How they had managed to grow wolfsbane into the earth was a question he really didn’t want to begin contemplating. He recoiled, crouching back down at the bottom of his pit and fighting down the wolf that tried to break out from under his skin. 

His mate was practically sick with anxiety and she didn’t even have him there to help. He didn’t even have a way to find out what it was that was bothering his mate. He couldn’t even tell who his mate was. 

He crouched down low to the ground, covering his hands with his ears as if that would help. 

He hoped she was at least a little bit like Stiles. Then he flinched and tore at his hair with sudden claws because _he’d been doing so well not think of his name._ It wouldn’t be fair on his mate if he was constantly comparing him back to the one Derek would have chosen if he’d had a choice. 

Skinny and pale and loud and so loyal it was actually painful to watch—because that loyalty had been devoted to Scott and would never, ever be turned on to him. The one he’d hunted down when shot with Kate’s wicked wolfsbane bullet. The teen who’d kept him afloat for _hours_ in a swimming pool, even though he could have fared much better to just let him sink to the bottom and drown. 

If he’d been allowed to choose, it would have been Stiles. But it turned out he didn’t have a choice and his mate— 

His mate was suddenly ecstatically happy and relieved. A victorious howl rent the air and he couldn’t help but tilt his head back and join his own to it. 

Drive thrummed through the mate bond, echoing with the feeling of coming – coming – coming – on my way. He frowned as he looked up towards the trap of wolfsbane above his pit. Surely his mate wasn’t... 

Then there were familiar footsteps on the charred footsteps above the earth—the confident footsteps of his gardener. On the edge of the house, another set—lighter in step and practically vibrating with tension. He’d put money on it being his mate, if he had any left to give. 

The dirt above him began to dislodge as the flowers disappeared one by one. He covered his mouth—he’d had enough dirt in his mouth to last him a lifetime, thank you very much. The last of the wolfsbane disappeared and then his mate’s footsteps were racing across the floorboards. 

He looked up, regretting it as soon as the cover was pulled away. He cried out as sunlight burnt into his eyes, blinding him with the contrast of a year’s worth of darkness. He felt determined hands hook under his arms and then he was being hoisted out of the pit that had been his prison since Peter’s second rising. 

He was pressed against something warm and comforting. Arms wrapped around his torso and he was flooded with the scent of wolf and mate and...the lingering traces of Stiles. He turned blindly towards where he knew his gardener was crouched—the human scent obscured by wolfsbane. Had Stiles been his prison guard all this time. 

With a low growl, his mate was turning his head back around. He found his face smashed into the bare skin of a slender throat and he whimpered in relief even as he inhaled the thick scent of wolf-mate-Stiles. He spiralled down towards unconsciousness, surrounded by the soothing presence of his mate at last. 

“You’re safe,” he heard. _Stiles_ , his mind supplied instantly. Arms tightened around him further. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you. You’re with me.” 

_Oh,_ he thought, and then passed out. 

... 

It was astounding what a man could do in one year if he was driven. 

Beacon Hills was now a wolf city—a few token humans remained, mostly the mates of wolves or family members who refused to be turned. The Argents had been turned one by one at the beginning. Those who survived the bite but chose not to live as the thing they had hunted had killed themselves off. 

That was most, but Derek couldn’t help but smile as he saw Allison perched on a fence, content as she watched Scott roll around in the grass with the scaly were-lizard that was Jackson. Scott, he learned, was Jackson’s new master after the photographer kid hadn’t survived Peter’s bite. He was a lot happier now, slowly coming to terms with his suitcases of issues and the skeletons in his family closet. 

Victoria made a frankly terrifying female-alpha, but she’d been raised as a ruthless leader and that translated very well to the new town-wide wolfpack. 

The Stilinski family, and Scott’s mom, had been the last of the humans to resist the were-revolution. Matter of fact, if Scott hadn’t inadvertently gotten himself used as a bargaining chip, they’d probably still be locked up in their house behind a barrier of mountain ash. 

Stiles had been the last human to be bitten, almost died from the bite until he felt the tug of a certain mate bond. 

“Hey, where’d you go?” A familiar voice grumbled, warmth sinking into his back as his mate crawled over and nipped at his neck. “You’ve got your brooding face on again.” 

Derek growled playfully and flipped them over so he was straddling his mate like a colt. “You can’t have my attention all the time, you know?” 

A pout pulled at the pink lips. “Not if I have any say about it.” 

Derek laughed, burying his face in the pale neck and taking a deep breath of wolf-mate-Stiles. “I love you,” he murmured. 

“Love you too, sourwolf. Now, about what we were talking about _before_ you drifted off into your soulful angst...” 

Derek tuned back out again, smiling. 


End file.
